I sway my head side to side, I’ve got a moment of uselessness.
I roll my eyes up and down, I’ve got a hundred tasks staring me down.
Should I call him? Him who.
I open the closet door, hoping to be drowned in ocean waves, I sigh.
I could splatter paint all over my furniture. Perhaps then my soul would be stripped of symmetry.
This conscious flutters its devil hands through my synapses. You’ve got a rendering to my splendering.
This is absolute nonsense, all worked up in a bottle of defense.
I pluck the guitar, but the sounds sooth deafened ears.
I jump into my rabbit hole, but hit rock bottom at full speed.
You’re pretty eyes make me giggle, but your personality is about as dry as the back of my palm.
Cruelty is a most grandeure form of flattering.
A goldfish spits out his despair, he’s ready to float a new affair.
Shakespeare joins me for tea, but innacurately states the rays of my center.
The middle, top, front, and down, surround.
You symbol, take my hand, let’s give this story an end.
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